


Die Another Day (hope you live to see it)

by trailsofpaper (Sanwall)



Series: Calling An Audible [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, James Bond AU, M/M, spy AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-04 22:23:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5350613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanwall/pseuds/trailsofpaper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Louis are happy running their very own international two-man crime syndicate when their old friend, Sir Liam Payne, is framed for treason. Before long, they're involved in a web of intrigue that reaches into the very core of the MI6 itself, and Louis doesn't know if their relationship will stand the strain.</p><p>(or the action movie sequel)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue and Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The long-awaited (and less successful) sequel to [You Only Live Twice (hope the second bullet doesn't kill you)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4757351/chapters/10876949). Harry/Louis is still the main pairing, but Zayn/Liam is pretty prevalent, especially in the prologue. As usual I have to thank [pursuingsunshine](http://pursuingsunshine.tumblr.com/) for her invaluable assistance with making this fic happen. I plan on updating twice a week on Monday and Friday until it's finished.

“Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much”

― Helen Keller

 

“Put that in your pipe and smoke it.”

― Ian Fleming, _Moonraker_

 

**Prologue**

**London, UK**

Zayn was not a morning person. Once he was asleep he preferred to remain asleep. But some things could make rolling out of bed slightly less abhorrent. Like, for instance, a puppy-eyed husband brandishing an actual puppy that needed to go for walksies (Liam’s words, not his). It helped that it wasn’t morning either; noon was fast approaching, so Zayn couldn’t very well scold Liam for waking him up too early on their day off.

Loki was yapping so excitedly while they were bundling up for the chill of the English spring that Zayn couldn’t help but smile and coo a little when he clipped the leash on. When he straightened up, he caught Liam staring at him fondly.

Zayn was a highly skilled MI6 agent with a knighthood for his services; he decidedly did not blush. He did, however, flick Liam’s nose before he walked out the door with Loki running about his feet. Liam followed closely after, bumping Zayn’s shoulder all the way to the dog park while teasing Zayn about his sleeping habits and merciless bedhead.

It was just bloody nice was the thing. Zayn inhaled deeply, smelling the wet earth of the dog park and a whiff of Liam’s cologne when he threw a pinecone for Loki to chase. People were milling around the park walking dogs and couples huddled on benches despite the recent downpour.

Zayn eyed everyone out of habit but also enjoyed the way the rain had made everything glimmer in shades of blue and gray.

He’d quite like to try to paint the atmosphere when he got home.

A flash of something disturbed the peaceful colour palette. Zayn turned his head, looking at the black car rounding the park just outside the line of trees. Hadn’t he seen that same car when they walked out onto the street outside their house?

He was just about to voice his concern to Liam, when a pair of girls in their early twenties came across their path. Loki tugged at the leash to greet them, forcibly yanking Zayn out of his train of thought.

“Oh look at this little darling!” cooed one, crouching down to pet him. The other girl looked on, with a fond expression not unlike Liam’s.

“He’s gorgeous,” she said with a timid smile. “What kind of dog is he?”

Zayn couldn’t stop the proud smile from breaking out on his face.

“Oh, well, they said he was a Shiba Inu, but he’s probably got some Alaskan Klee Kai in him, or maybe a little Spitz-” he began, but Liam put a hand on his arm and quickly interjected,

“Loki is black and white and licks Zayn’s face when he won’t get out of bed.”

He gave Zayn a smile that made his brown eyes shine, and added,

“We love him.”

The girls both cooed appropriately at that, petting Loki even more. Loki, of course, was basking in the attention.

Zayn elbowed Liam in the side and leaned in to whisper in his ear.

“When did you turn into such a smooth conversationalist?”

“One of us has to be,” Liam said, giving one of his huge, open-mouthed laughs as he wound an arm around Zayn’s waist. Zayn was man enough to lean into the embrace, smiling widely.

They bid the girls a pleasant goodbye and kept walking arm in arm. They soon turned back home because Liam was feeling peckish, since he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast five hours ago. Zayn could indulge him; homemade brunch sounded fantastic.

When they got to their home street, Zayn grabbed Liam’s arm while keeping his gait steady.

“Darling,” he mumbled out of the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be alarmed, but that car has been following us our whole walk.”

Liam smiled, like Zayn had told a funny story, and leaned down as if to check on Loki. Zayn noticed the glance he threw at the car parked by a lamppost in question, but only because he was looking for it.

That was the moment the car door opened and a woman stepped out. Zayn’s pulse raced as he saw that the woman was followed by two burly men in suits. Liam straightened up and faced them head on as they were evidently headed straight for them.

“Gentlemen, miss,” he said with a nod. “Can I help you?”

“Sir Liam Payne?” asked the woman. She had her brown hair in a bun and was wearing a fashionable coat over her immaculate pencil skirt. Zayn suddenly recognized her: Eleanor Calder from the office.

Zayn calmed down somewhat at the realization, but Loki didn’t. The poor thing had picked up on his masters’ tense mood and was whining worriedly.

“That’s me,” said Liam, putting a protective hand on Zayn, as if he was in need of it. Zayn really did love his husband.

“We’re going to need you to follow us,” Eleanor said. She was very composed, but Zayn noticed that her hand shook slightly as she swept a lock behind her ear.

“We need to get the dog home,” interjected Zayn in his best haughty voice. “We’ll meet you back at HQ, yeah?”

He took Liam’s arm and was about to turn away when one of the men flanking Eleanor grabbed Liam’s shoulder.

“We can’t allow you to do that,” said Eleanor, while her henchman forcibly tore Liam from Zayn’s grip and pushed him up against the wall of their own home.

“Sir Liam James Payne, you are under arrest for high treason,” said Eleanor, while Loki did his best to drown out her voice with incessant barking.

Zayn felt like someone had punched the air from his lungs; he knew Liam could fight back and take them down, but he went limply as a pair of handcuffs were clamped on his wrists.

“Do you know how many times this man has risked his life for this country?” Zayn asked, trying to hold Loki back as he pinned Eleanor with a glare, her other henchman barring Zayn from reaching his husband. “This is fucking ridiculous!”

Eleanor looked at him with a clear, determined gaze, and Zayn felt unending resentment towards her.

“We have our warrant,” she said simply and nodded at her men to take Liam to the car. Zayn desperately sought out his eyes, willing Liam to speak up and defend himself.

“Liam-” he started, but Liam only smiled reassuringly even as he was forcefully bent over and pushed into the backseat of the car.

“Go take care of Loki. I’m sure we’ll sort this out soon enough,” he said, and Zayn could see the bruise already forming on the edge of his eyebrow.

Before Zayn could even reply, the door was slammed in Liam’s face, Eleanor and her men disappeared into the car, and the car was driving away. Zayn looked after it, eyes wide and mouth agape as Loki kept barking a high-pitched whine, half-sitting on his haunches.

“Come on, boy,” Zayn mumbled, still dazed, as he started calculating the fastest route to MI6 headquarters.

 

If Zayn expected the offices to be bustling with activity as he burst in with unstyled hair and mismatching socks, he was sorely disappointed. Everyone was bent over their desks as usual; Ed giving Zayn a half-hearted wave over his coffee cup, and Perrie smiling her usual warm smile when he entered Simon’s offices.

“Hiya, Zayn,” she said, fingers moving at rapid speed over her keyboard. “Simon’s a bit busy; you don’t have an appointment scheduled, do you?”

“This can’t wait,” said Zayn as he walked past her and into Simon’s study without knocking.

Simon Cowell, head of the MI6 and Britain’s most dangerous man, looked up with his usual expression of mild interest.

“Ah, Zayn,” he said calmly, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Like Zayn hadn’t just stormed into his office without invitation. Like he didn’t know exactly what was going on with Liam.

“Liam,” said Zayn as calmly, crossing his arms and looking at Simon until Simon sighed and rubbed at his eye with his thumb.

“I know this must come as quite a shock to you,” he started, gesturing at Zayn to sit. Zayn remained standing.

“You need to know that I am doing everything in my power to settle this matter quietly. You know how invested I am in Liam,” Simon continued evenly, sorting through some loose leaves of paper on his desk. “It was me who encouraged him to apply to the academy again, after he failed the first time. I always knew he had potential, that boy.”

“I know,” was Zayn’s clipped answer. He kept staring.

Simon gave a lopsided little smile.

“I’ve already put in for you to start on paid leave, effective immediately, until we get this sorted out. I completely understand your urge to be in the thick of it, but your personal attachment will only serve to throw further shadow on Liam and this investigation.”

Zayn automatically clenched his left hand; he felt his gold ring bite into the flesh of his palm.

“You know he would never commit a treasonous act in his life,” he said, keeping his voice as level as he could. It was hard.

Simon nodded.

“I know,” he echoed. “Please, Zayn, get some well-earned rest. We will keep you updated, of course.”

So there was nothing for Zayn to do except go back the way he came, walk over to his own cubicle, and gather anything he might want during his leave. He rifled through the mess aimlessly when his eyes landed on the framed picture beside his desktop, one that Harry had taken on their wedding day. It was a lovely photo where Liam was smiling his crinkliest smile as Zayn kissed him on the cheek, both framed by a lush green canopy, dressed as they were in their wedding tuxedos.

Zayn slumped down in his chair, knees suddenly weak with the shock of it all. He remained staring at the photo, unable to process these recent events.

“Hey, Zayn?” came a low voice, and Zayn snapped out of it, blinking confusedly as he tried to focus on Niall, who was half hidden behind a potted plant.

“What?” he said, not even managing to muster up the energy to sound annoyed.

“There’s something seriously strange going on ‘round here,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re telling me,” said Zayn, giving a listless laugh. He straightened up when Niall looked around and took a step closer. He seemed actually afraid; Zayn felt a terrible quiver in his stomach. This wasn’t good.

“I think we’re going to need some serious help from the outside,” said Niall and immediately bit down on his thumb to gnaw at a cuticle. Zayn blinked up at him, carefully grasping his hand and bringing it down.

“Good thing we know just the right people, then.”

 

**Chapter 1**

**New York, USA**

“Hey, Harry, what do you think?”

Louis was pouting exaggeratedly, holding a pair of gigantic diamond earrings up to his ears and striking a pose. Harry turned to him, wearing that usual cute frown he always did when they were concentrating on doing illegal things.

Like breaking into private jewelry collections.

The frown slipped off his face, and Harry had to slap a hand over his mouth to stifle the laugh that threatened to come out. Louis was doubled over in silent laughter while putting away the earrings in his bag after wrapping them in cloth so they wouldn’t clink together.

“Can you please be serious when we’re trying to get away with breaking and entering and stealing a fortune?” Harry whispered when they went to crack open another safe. Louis nudged him playfully and set to work, opening the safe with relative ease.

He left Harry to bag its contents while he went to crack the last safe. He glanced at his watch. They only had about ten minutes before the owner of this collection was done with his ritual evening bath and would start moving about his ridiculously huge, bare-brick wall loft apartment.

But Louis did nothing if not thrive under pressure, and so he quickly cracked the final case, holding his breath to see what riches it would reveal.

“Louis,” whispered Harry, and Louis snapped his head towards him. Harry was holding out his begloved hand, a hefty ring made out of white gold with a band of diamonds on his ring finger. He fluttered his fingers daintily, giving a dimpled smile.

“Totally brings out your eyes, darling!” Louis said, grinning and sticking out his tongue before he turned back to the safe.

It contained one simple velvet case, and Louis was practically itching to open it. He knew he had to be careful though; these cases could backfire on you if they weren’t opened correctly.

“Love, could you hand me the magnifying glass?” he said airily, gently thumbing along the crack of the case lid.

“Why, would that improve your observational skills?” said Harry. His tone of voice rarely changed, but there was an obvious note of tension in it. Louis looked back over his shoulder at him.

“Did I miss something?” he said, frowning as he noticed Harry’s pinched expression.

Harry didn’t get a chance to reply before something started vibrating in Louis’ pocket, the harsh tones of Nicki Minaj’s _Anaconda_ slicing through the air.

They exchanged panicked glances, and Harry let Louis throw the entire velvet case into his rucksack as he scrambled to get his phone out.

“Why the hell didn’t you put it on silent mode?” whispered Harry, his tone of voice clearly expressing his desire to shout.

“The only ones who have my number are you and Niall and it’s the middle of the bloody night over there!” hissed Louis, pressing the phone to his ear as they silently power-walked back the way they’d come. “Niall, what the hell?”

“Suck it up, Louis; this is important!” said Niall hurriedly on the other end, and Louis could strangle him. “Liam’s been–”

What Liam had been, Louis didn’t get to know, because a man in a flowing bathrobe with dripping strands of hair was standing in the now well lit foyer, staring at them like a spooked animal. Louis sighed and handed the phone to Harry, who accepted it with an eyeroll, his mouth set in a firm, unamused line.

“I’ve already called the cops!” said the man with a shrill voice, and Louis smiled brightly as he jumped up against the wall to get some leverage to kick the man in the head, sending him unconscious to the floor.

“Liam’s in trouble,” said Harry, giving Louis back his phone without so much as an approving nod at his boyfriend’s athleticism.

Somewhat affronted, Louis accepted the phone to put it back in his pocket and followed Harry down the hallway and out onto the fire escape.

He figured they had a transatlantic flight coming up in their near future; they could talk about what was bothering Harry then.

 

**Above the Atlantic ocean**

“Hey, Louis.”

Louis blinked open his eyes dazedly at the sound of Harry’s voice.

“What’s that, Hazza?” he yawned and rubbed his eyes. He was used to Harry falling asleep on flights, so this was a new situation for him.

“I was just thinking,” began Harry where he was turned to Louis in the seat, one long leg bent over the armrest. “I mean, we’ve been together for years now.”

“Yeah, we have,” said Louis, lips twitching into a soft smile. “Got the tattoos to prove it.”

Harry laughed, one hand coming up to squeeze at his bicep where Louis knew he had a ship tattooed – a ship that matched the compass on Louis’ right forearm.

“Did you ever think you’d settle down?” asked Harry, looking away. Louis sensed that there was something deeper to the question, so he sat up straighter and started massaging Harry’s thigh absent-mindedly.

“Yeah, like” started Louis a little searchingly, “when I was a kid, I thought I’d find someone nice, get a family and all that. But when I started the academy, it all started to feel, I don’t know, impossible?”

Harry looked back at him, green eyes almost grey in the dim lighting of the plane. He pursed his lips but didn’t say anything so Louis added,

“Certainly never thought I’d get together with an escort I tried to kill!”

Harry shifted his leg off the armrest, making Louis retract his hand.

“Is that what you think of me?” he asked, hand coming up to rest on his bicep again. Louis gaped.

“What – no! ‘Course not Harry; I was joking!” Louis hurried to say, scrambling to grab Harry’s hand. “Harry, c’mon, you know that’s not what I think of you. You haven’t been in that business since we got together!”

“I know,” said Harry. His voice wasn’t sharp, but there was a note of hardness in it, and Louis leaned across the armrest to kiss him on the cheek.

“D’you think we could sneak off to the toilet and join the mile high club?” he whispered, earning himself a chuckle. He smiled as Harry undid Louis’ belt, fingers snagging on Louis’ fly as he did it.

He stretched languidly, waiting for Harry to close the door to the toilet before getting up to join him. Harry was always a bit tense on travels, and Louis didn’t mind helping him to relax.

As soon as the door slammed behind Louis, he was on Harry like a starving man. He undid Harry’s belt and fly so quickly that Harry hissed in warning, gripping Louis’ arms to slow him down. Louis grinned, pulling Harry’s lower lip between his teeth in a sensuous kiss as he pushed down Harry’s trousers and pants in one, quick move. Harry gasped into Louis’ mouth, and Louis planted a kiss on Harry’s exposed neck before smoothly falling to his knees.

Harry was only half-hard when Louis took him into his mouth, sucking lightly as he pressed his tongue into the the dip just under the head. Harry groaned appreciatively as he buried his broad hand in Louis’ hair; Louis closed his eyes against the sensation of Harry filling up in his mouth, humming a little when Harry’s fingers curled against his scalp.

Louis set up a merciless pace, covering with his hand what he couldn’t reach with his mouth as he sucked. Harry pressed back against the wall, his other hand gripping the sink so tightly his knuckles whitened. He encouraged Louis by moaning obscenely when he didn’t grit his teeth together in an effort to keep silent.

“Louis, Lou,” panted Harry as Louis let up his pace to suck in a breath through his nose. Harry looked down on him, massaging his scalp gently. “I’m going to come really soon.”

Louis looked up through his lashes and grinned around Harry’s cock, giving a small tug with his hand. Harry groaned quietly as he came, slumping back as Louis swallowed, taking his time even though his jaw was aching.

He then kissed Harry’s thigh, the bitter taste of him still heavy on his tongue. Harry pushed his hand through his own curls, urging Louis to his feet so they could mash their mouths together in a filthy kiss.

Louis felt like the luckiest man on the planet, but not even Harry jacking him off while whispering dirty things in his ear could drown out the small voice at the back of his head telling him something was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**London, UK**

“Treason? This is Liam we’re talking about, innit? For queen and country, by the book, proper fucking boy scout Liam Payne with a knighthood and bloody union jack boxers?”

Louis was staring at Niall’s absolutely serious face. He was still clutching his carry-on, smelling like airplane and unwashed hair, Harry and him having rushed to Niall’s as soon as the plane had landed. When Niall had said ‘emergency’, ‘can’t talk over the phone’, and ‘get your buttocks over here now’, never in his wildest dream could Louis have expected _this_.

“I don’t believe it,” mumbled Harry, moving closer to throw his arms around Niall, who accepted the hug gratefully. Louis only blinked, mind whirring.

“Zayn?” he said at last, putting a hand on Niall’s shoulder. Niall shook his head and sunk down in his sofa, sprawling his legs.

“He’s under surveillance,” said Niall, pressing the heel of his hand against one eye. “He’s a sitting duck, lads. It’s up to us to figure this out.”

“But they work for the bloody MI6!” Louis exclaimed, locking eyes with Harry. “It’s their fucking job to figure shit out. Fuck, Niall, you work there too; shouldn’t you know what’s going on?”

Niall looked up at Louis, his knee jiggling nervously.

“I quit,” he admitted. Harry immediately sat down beside him, pulling him into another one-armed hug.

Louis threw his hands up and started pacing.

“Well, that’s bloody brilliant! We’ll never figure out what’s going on with no one on the inside. Niall what–”

“The inside’s the trouble,” Niall interrupted harshly. “I’m telling you, Louis, there’s something going on at the office and I couldn’t tell you what. All I know is that something was very wrong and _something_ kept getting in my way when I was trying to figure things out.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, a wrinkle of concern appearing between his eyebrows.

Niall slumped back with a shrug. Louis stilled.

“I tried to get at what’s going on with Liam, but I’ve never seen such heavy encryption. It’ll take me _years_ to crack it. Then I tried to look into what Liam was working on and I was locked out. Of the system I helped create.”

He looked up at Louis, almost pleadingly, as if he would know what to do.

“I just had to walk away,” Niall added, looking down to poke at a hole in his jeans.

Louis pulled a hand through his hair. It was growing shaggy, but a haircut was the furthest thing from his mind. Seeing Niall so helpless shook him deeply.

“But Liam can’t have committed treason,” Harry said calmly. “We know that, even the bloody Queen probably knows that. I think this has to be a set up.”

“But who? Who would want to do this to him?” wailed Niall, throwing his arms out and accidentally hitting Louis in the gut.

“Oh he’s such a sweetheart,” wheezed Louis, doubling over and trying to suck air back into his lungs. “I bet all the criminals he’s put away during the last eight years are completely thrilled about his knighthood. They probably sent him thank you cards.”

Harry gave him a look and patted Niall’s head, saying,

“I think we need to talk to Liam. I mean, he has to know something.”

“Those visits are always recorded, Hazza,” Louis reminded him gently, still rubbing his stomach, but also reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind Harry’s ear. “And if what you’re saying is true, whoever set Liam up can’t know we’re onto them.”

Harry closed his eyes and leaned into the contact, making something soft unfurl in Louis’ stomach. He retracted his hand as Niall sat up suddenly, jostling Harry.

“So we break him out!” Niall said, brightening up. Louis stared at him.

“From Belmarsh high security prison?” Louis asked incredulously. Niall only seemed to brighten further.

“We know he’s innocent, we need to know what he knows, and getting him out of the hands of whoever framed him will force them to tip their hand!” he said, getting up to rush to his work station.

Louis looked helplessly at Harry. The corner of Harry’s mouth crooked up, making a dimple appear.

“We are already criminals, Lou,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“They could catch us!” said Louis, even as he gave up and followed Harry as he went over to Niall. “We could be _imprisoned_. Prison is a place we venture to stay _out of_.”

Louis sighed and crossed his legs, leaning on Niall’s desk as Harry leaned on Niall’s chair. He would never be able to look Niall in the face if he backed out.

Harry’s hand settled as a warm weight on the small of his back as they listened to Niall laying out the plan.

 

“It’s a foolproof plan, lads,” Niall had said. “We only need to get a copy of the key to Liam’s cell,” Niall had said. “I even know who the warden is. All we need is to find out where he has the keys, easy!” Niall had said.

Only finding out where the warden kept the keys would require Harry to revert back to his former profession and skillset as a seducer of people with valuable information. Louis gritted his teeth and told Niall he agreed as long as he could shadow Harry during the mission to ensure his safety.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” said Niall hesitantly, looking between the two with a crease between his eyebrows.

“I don’t care if it’s a good idea!” Louis shot back, crossing his arms petulantly. “I care about Harry being safe!”

“You do realize I did this by myself long before I met you,” said Harry dryly from where he leaned on the wall, reading through Niall’s notes on the prison warden in question.

He looked up to meet Louis’ gaze, a glint of something dangerous in his eye.

“Don’t you trust me?” Harry said. Louis gave an indignant huff.

“It’s _him_ I don’t trust!” he replied, throwing out his arms. Harry only shook his head, making his brown curls cascade around his face.

“Please, Louis, I can take care of myself,” said Harry, giving him a kiss on the cheek before he went to get ready for his mission.

“Louis,” said Niall seriously. “It’s a fundraising event for law enforcement. There might be people there who recognize you from when you were an agent. I mean, that’s why we’re sending Harry in the first place.”

Louis saw the pleading look on Niall’s face and recognized how badly they needed everything to work. Liam’s honour, if not life, was at stake. Louis shrugged dejectedly.

Louis might have gone rogue several years ago, and he might have been immersed in building up a minor crime syndicate where they stole from millionaires and donated most of their winnings to charity, but he was still a trained agent.

And he had to call on all of his training to remain seated by the monitor in Niall’s study. The resourceful genius had hacked into the security feed of the event - all the different camera views on display on his screens - allowing them a visual of the proceedings in addition to the limited audio from Harry’s expertly hidden mic.

Harry had no agent training, however, so they had advised him against trying to talk to them unless he was alone. He was doing really well though; Louis had almost forgotten how effortlessly charming and purposefully seductive Harry could be when he wasn’t making horrible jokes or laughing at something Louis was doing.

Louis wanted to crash the event and announce to every single person that this wasn’t the real Harry Styles – the one with a dreamy look in his eyes when he woke up in the morning, who yawned like a cat because he always pushed his tongue out first, and who loved doing crossword puzzles – that was the real Harry.

But all he could do was clench his fists and watch as Harry approached the warden of Belmarsh prison, smiling timidly and pushing his hair out of his face. Harry didn’t look boyish anymore, but he could play the part of the young, naive man effortlessly; mumbling and smiling and being just the right amount of handsy, which, for some reason, was irresistible to this sleazy old man who had probably never found his wife’s clitoris in his life.

So Louis had to bite his tongue as Mister Sleazy Prison Warden leaned into Harry’s space, telling him to ‘just call me Frank, dear boy’, and then again was forced to swallow the bile that rose in his throat when Harry replied with an honest-to-god giggle before skillfully moving the topic of discussion to the warden’s work.

“So you’re in charge of all the really bad prisoners?” Harry asked with a wide-eyed look of wonder on his face that made Louis’ blood boil to see directed at this repugnant stranger. He rolled his eyes. Niall chuckled beside him, where he was stuffing his face with crisps.

“I can’t believe he’s falling for this,” said Niall, like they were watching high-end entertainment. Louis gave a noncommittal huff, resisting the urge to break something nearby as Harry put his hand on Frank’s arm, keeping with the ‘breathless amazement’ schtick.

Louis actually had to cover his face with his hands when things came to a head and Frank asked Harry back to his place. Harry played it brilliantly, of course, acting hesitant but with just the right amount of dimples to show that he could be persuaded. Louis was almost thankful when they finally left the event and wandered out of reach of the cameras.

His relief was short-lived, as a completely different torture took its place. Only having the audio of rustling clothes and small giggles and other noises overlaying the sound of traffic made Louis’ imagination run wild. He gave a drawn-out groan, trying to drown out the noises or his thoughts, or maybe both, and slumped back in the chair Niall had pulled up for him.

“You don’t have to stay,” said Niall softly, nudging Louis with a knee. Louis rubbed his eye and turned his face towards him.

“I know,” he sighed. “But I think not knowing would be worse, to be honest.”

It wasn’t even that Louis thought Harry would want to cheat on him or anything. No, the fact of the matter was that Louis was just a possessive shit, and he knew that, but it was taking up most of his self-control not to fly off his handle, go find this Frank guy, tear Harry from his arms, and then beat him to a pulp.

What’s worse, this whole ordeal had dredged up this little nagging voice at the back of his head that kept saying, _what if he finds someone better than you?_ A voice that Louis had heard before and was usually skilled in firmly ignoring. Sleazy Old Prison Warden certainly wasn’t better than him, at any rate.

There came a respite from Louis’ incessant internal monologue in the form of a chime on the doorbell. Both Niall and Louis looked at each other before they sprang up – Louis to hide behind the door, ready for a fight, and Niall opening the door just an inch to see who it was.

“Zayn!” exclaimed Niall, throwing the door wide open and squarely into Louis’ face.

“Niall!” replied Zayn. Louis groaned and closed the door as he rubbed his smarting nose.

“Did anyone follow you here?” asked Niall even as he embraced Zayn. Zayn only laughed, turning to look at Louis.

“Nah, I got rid of them,” he assured them, eyeing Louis up and down. “I see you called in the cavalry.”

Louis grinned and threw his arms around Zayn, hugging him tightly.

“Good to see you,” he mumbled into Zayn’s styled hair.

Zayn kept his hands on Louis’ shoulders as he leaned back.

“Where’s Harry, then?” he asked, still smiling. He must have seen Louis’ expression change because he quickly grew serious, looking from Louis to Niall.

“We’re trying to break Liam out of prison,” supplied Niall helpfully, and it almost lifted Louis’ spirits to see Zayn’s expression of slack-jawed surprise.

“I’ll put the kettle on,” said Louis. “You fill him in on the specifics, Nialler.”

As Louis reentered Niall’s study, Harry’s voice rang out clearly as he spoke directly into the mic. The shock of it, Louis wasn’t proud to admit, nearly caused him to dump the three mugs of tea he was carrying onto the floor.

“I’m at his place, and I think I’ve found out where he has the keys.”

“Excellent work Hazza!” exclaimed Niall, leaning forward in his chair. Zayn hovered above him, and Louis quickly set the tea mugs down.

“I’m in the loo now,” continued Harry. “He’s waiting for me to come back out; I don’t think I can get to work copying the key before he’s asleep, though.”

“Can’t you just put something in his drink?” Louis blurted out desperately, his knuckles whitening with the death-grip he had on the table.

“We need him to not be suspicious, Lou,” murmured Niall, gently squeezing Louis’ shoulder. Louis closed his eyes as he heard Harry’s sharp intake of breath.

“It’s alright, Louis,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

Zayn put a comforting but firm arm around Louis, gently leading him out of the room. Louis went without argument, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to will away the terrible images springing to his mind.

“How do you do it?” he whispered in defeat as Zayn pressed the mug of tea into his hands. “How did you and Liam do it?”

Zayn sighed, throwing a glance at the door to the study.

“I don’t bloody know, Louis,” he said. “We just love each other, yeah? And the job- it is what it is.”

Louis’ hand came up to press at the tattoo snaking across his collarbones, and he smiled wryly.

“I guess so,” he admitted, crooking his fingers and digging his fingernails into his own skin.

Harry got the copy of the key. He never told Louis the details, and Louis never asked. He just kissed Harry for a long time afterwards, hoping to completely wash away the memory of the entire night for both of them.

He kissed Harry on the mouth, in the dip of his throat; he kissed his way across Harry’s torso, over the tattooed swallows on his collarbones to the moth covering his stomach. He kissed each leaf of the inked laurels on Harry’s hip bones – he kissed an indiscernible pattern across the freckles on Harry’s back even as he pushed inside, making Harry moan and twist beneath him.

Louis kissed Harry’s mouth again as he sighed Louis’ name in his release. He tried to feel reassured, but there was something eating away at his insides, even as he kissed Harry’s sweat damp curls as they fell asleep in each other’s arms.

Niall made it seem like an easy task, messing up the cable TV feed to Belmarsh prison. After he’d done it, he went in dressed as a cable repair guy, jauntily tipping his ridiculous brown cap to the side, and no one seemed to suspect a thing.

Louis refused to admit he was worried about Niall’s first field op in years – he didn’t even think about the fact that what they were doing was highly illegal and not sanctioned in any way, shape, or form.

He just went along according to their plan, stealing the bread delivery van on its way to the prison, hastily tying up the drivers while Harry reassured them they’d give an anonymous tip to the police where to find them after they were done with the van.

“You don’t have to be polite to people whose things we steal,” Louis said, mouth quirking into a little grin as he glanced over at Harry in the passenger seat. Harry gave him an uncharacteristically tight-lipped frown, slumping in his seat and saying nothing.

“Are you nervous?” asked Louis, realizing that Harry was not in a joking mood. Harry sighed.

“I’m worried for Liam,” he admitted, peering ahead at the prison watchtowers that loomed into view. “And Zayn. I wonder how he’s holding up.”

“Knowing Zayn, he’s just mad we wouldn’t let him come with us,” said Louis a little flippantly. “Look bored now, love, we’re pulling up to the gate.”

The guards didn’t look twice at them – the monotony of routine could dull even the most vigilant observer, Louis knew – so they made it onto prison grounds without even breaking a sweat. They parked the van and climbed out to carry a crate supposedly containing bread to the prison kitchen.

Louis nodded to the kitchen staff, face schooled into an expression of exquisite boredom. Harry followed his lead, lugging the crate.

“Just take it back there,” gestured a frazzled man with a grey moustache as he tried to direct an employee on how to dice the carrots. Harry and Louis nodded and went in the general direction he’d gestured towards but soon deviated from course and ended up in a corridor outside the kitchen.

They both ripped off their baggy delivery overalls, revealing a sharp suit on Louis and a prison warden’s outfit on Harry.

“Looking good, sweetheart,” Louis quipped, and Harry graced him with a dimpled smile before they stuffed their overalls in the crate and pushed it inside a cleaning closet.

Harry then escorted Louis through the halls according to the layout they’d memorized off Niall’s blueprints.

“Niall, how are we?” mumbled Louis under the pretense of checking his watch.

“We’re golden,” said Niall in his earpiece. “Should be clear sailing up until the cell.”

And it was. They did receive some wondering stares, but not one single person stopped to ask them where they were going. The wonders of compartmentalization, Louis mused. Everyone thinks someone else knows what’s going on.

Once, Louis had to state his purpose (lawyer, of course!) and Harry had to show his (falsified) identity badge as a prison guard, but they were allowed to pass without much scrutiny.

So they actually made it up to Liam’s cell, and Harry fished out the copy of the key he’d made. Louis stood back, actually holding his breath as Harry turned the key. There was a click, and the door swung open.

Louis hurried to step inside, putting a finger to his lips even as Liam looked up from where he was sitting cross-legged on his bunk with a book in his lap.

Liam’s eyes widened, but he said nothing as he got to his feet.

He clearly conveyed his skepticism, however, as Harry held up shackles.

“Play along here, Payno,” insisted Louis, resisting the paranoid move of checking over his shoulder. Liam raised a bushy eyebrow before holding out his arms and allowing Harry to clasp the handcuffs around his wrists. He followed them, playing the part of reluctant but obedient inmate perfectly.

While they walked back the way they came, Louis threw surreptitious glances Liam’s way to assess his state. He seemed calm, healthy even, though he was paler than Louis remembered. Though that might just be the terrible prison lighting.

They rounded the corner to the kitchen, and Louis hurried over to the closet where they’d stashed their crate, pulling out their overalls and an extra for Liam. Harry quickly opened Liam’s handcuffs and helped him into the overall before he pulled on his own.

“Now, Niall,” Louis whispered into his mic as the three of them opened the door to the kitchen, and he heard Niall give a cackle before the fire alarm drowned out any other noise.

Louis could see the same frazzled middle-aged man trying to calm everyone down and exit the kitchen in an orderly fashion. Everyone pretty much ignored him as they milled about in their haste to get out, so Louis, Harry, and Liam blended in perfectly as they legged through the kitchen and out to the bread delivery van.

No one stopped them as they hid Liam in the back of the van before Harry and Louis climbed into the driver and passenger seat.

The rest of the prison was obviously not alerted to the fire alarm, and they were let out of the gate without so much as a second glance thrown their way. Harry and Louis exchanged looks, hardly believing their luck. They’d driven for maybe fifteen minutes when they heard Liam knocking at the back wall and shouting,

“You know that by breaking me out you’ve made me into a real felon, don’t you?”

Louis grinned, tongue poking out between his teeth.

“I reckon he’ll forgive us when he sees Zayn again,” he said easily as they pulled up to their actual escape vehicle to wait for Niall.

“I’ll make him an omelet,” Harry replied thoughtfully. “I bet the prison food was terrible.”


	3. Chapter 3 and Intermission

Seeing Zayn and Liam reunited had brought a tear not only to Niall’s eye, but also Harry’s. Louis smiled and clung to him, teasing him endlessly about his romanticism, while suppressing his own delighted squeals at the married couple’s loving embrace.

Zayn kept asking, “Are you alright?” and Liam kept reassuring him by asking him the same question, and they kept touching each other as if to make sure the other was really there. It was, all in all, pretty disgusting.

“I swear I don’t know what I did to make them come after me,” said Liam as they were all five of them crowded around Niall’s kitchen table. Zayn covered Liam’s hand with his own, squeezing encouragingly.

“You can’t think of anything?” Niall pressed, nervously tapping his foot against the leg of the table.

“They didn’t even tell me what I was being charged for, specifically,” said Liam sadly. “I was beginning to think they weren’t ever going to let me out of there to go to trial.”

“That’s bloody illegal, that is,” said Louis, but Niall interrupted him impatiently.

“What were you working on when they arrested you?”

Liam scrunched his forehead, thinking deeply.

“You know,” he said, pulling at his lower lip, “I did approach Simon about his countermeasures against the IRA.”

There was a loud thud as Niall’s foot slipped off the leg of the table, making him lose his balance and slam his elbow into the table.

“The Real Irish Republican Army?” he asked.

“The very same,” said Liam, raising an eyebrow. “I think he was worried that they would try something during Her Majesty’s visit to Northern Ireland.”

“I haven’t seen anything about that in his files,” said Niall, staring vacantly off into the distance even as he drummed his fingers against the table. Louis bit at his thumb nail, eyeing him worriedly; it was unlike Niall to be this wound up.

“You’ve been snooping around Simon’s files?” said Zayn disbelievingly. “Christ, Ni, you could have gotten into some serious trouble!”

Niall waved his hand vaguely, face scrunched in concentration.

“Yeah, yeah. But what did he tell you about the RIRA, Liam?”

“Well, nothing as such,” replied Liam, leaning back a bit. “I heard him talk about proper measures against them with someone on the phone when I went to him with some paperwork. I told him I have some experience with terrorist organizations, if he wanted my help.”

“Did he give you any details?” asked Niall, and Louis could tell he was itching to get on his computer and do some research, what with the way he was angling his body and looking from Liam to the door and back to Liam.

“No,” said Liam slowly. “He thanked me, I said goodnight and went home. The following day I was arrested.”

“They can’t be connected,” said Zayn, looking at Niall. “No way would the IRA have found that out and come up with a way to pin treason charges on Liam.”

“I didn’t think that either,” said Liam, putting his hand on Zayn’s shoulder to placate him. “It just came to mind, is all.”

“Well, I’ve been trying to access all your files,” said Niall and rose. “They’re under heavy encryption, and not even you will get to them now. They’ve been put on ice until your treason charge gets cleared up.”

Liam rubbed his face and pressed his fingertips against his forehead, leaning heavily on the table.

“I don’t understand any of it,” he admitted. Zayn made a sympathetic noise low in his throat.

“You need to lay low while we sort this out,” said Louis decisively. “We’ll figure it out, won’t we, Niall?”

“Yeah, right,” echoed Niall and nodded enthusiastically, already on his way out the door.

“I’m going with him,” said Zayn, putting an arm around Liam’s shoulders protectively. “We have a safe house not even the MI6 knows about.”

“Of course,” said Harry. Louis jumped; he’d almost forgotten Harry was present, he’d been so silent throughout the discussion. Harry searched for Louis’ gaze before adding,

“And we’ll take care of your dog, too.”

Louis really did love Niall, and he obviously loved Harry, but Niall’s flat was evidently not meant for three people and a dog. Louis had lost count over how many times he’d tripped over Loki as he rushed back and forth in anticipation of food. The duty of taking care of the dog had fallen mostly on Louis and Harry, as Niall spent most of his waking hours trying to hack MI6’s database.

There wasn’t exactly much Niall could delegate, so Harry and Louis mostly lazed about – Harry cooked the food and Louis looked after Loki, both bringing Niall a steady stream of coffee and sometimes forcing him to go to bed before retiring themselves.

Niall’s pull-out sofa was surprisingly comfortable, but not really made for two people. When Louis woke up with a crick in his back and his mouth full of Harry’s curls for the third morning in row, he was rather fed up with it.

Harry groaned when Louis made to get up, grabbing at him without opening his eyes. Louis let himself be pulled down, back first and landing on top of Harry, who stretched languorously. Louis smiled, feeling the heat of Harry’s morning erection against his bum, and ground down.

Harry gave a low hum of appreciation, hands coming up to tether Louis’ hips. Louis felt his own cock twitch and grabbed the back of the sofa for leverage. He turned his head to kiss Harry, neither of them minding the dank morning breath they shared, and hooked his feet around Harry’s ankles.

Louis was just considering the logistics of shucking both of their pajama bottoms when Niall’s bedroom door swung open.

“Not under my roof!” bellowed Niall as he made his way to the kitchen past the living room.

Louis huffed out a laugh, meeting Harry’s gaze as he stilled.

“I’ll make you breakfast while you go shower,” mumbled Harry in his sleep-gravel voice, making Louis shudder.

He went anyway; he was a grown man for crying out loud, he knew blue balls wasn’t really a thing, and they could live for a while without sex. It wasn’t a big deal.

It kept not being a big deal all throughout the day, _really_ , although Louis could admit he was in a bit of a mood. He was an energetic person by nature so having nothing to do was a sure way to drive him up the wall.

After asking Niall if he could help for the fourteenth time, Niall told him to go take Loki for a walk. Louis grumbled but complied, fetching the leash.

“Oh, could you pop by a store and buy some shampoo?” asked Harry from the kitchen where he was preparing dinner. “ _Someone_ keeps using mine and I’m almost out.”

Harry rolled his eyes exaggeratedly towards Niall’s study, and Louis laughed as he went out the door.

Loki was still a puppy, so Louis noticed he tired pretty quickly. They started walking back after fifteen minutes because Louis was restless, not heartless.

That evening Louis was trying his best to read a book and not watch telly (which apparently disturbed Niall’s work zen or something) while Harry was occupying the shower, singing to himself in his lovely, low voice.

Louis sighed and put the book away, getting up to go find something to snack on in the kitchen instead. His foot made contact with something lukewarm and wet; Louis closed his eyes and whispered a curse to himself. He could have sworn Loki had pissed during their outing – how much pee could a dog that size even generate?

He stood there dejectedly, one pee-covered foot slightly raised, when Harry poked his head through the bathroom door.

“Hey Lou, did you buy that shampoo?”

“No, I did not buy your bloody shampoo!” snapped Louis, wriggling his toes with a disgusted expression as he pondered his possibilities of jumping to the shower on one foot.

“Fucking hell, Louis, I asked you to, didn’t I?” said Harry, and normally Louis would have apologized for his forgetfulness. Now he had stepped in dog piss.

“Use some of mine, then!” he said. “I need to shower off!”

Harry then seemed to realize his situation with the puddle on the floor and the dripping foot.

“Won’t you clean it up?” he asked, quirking one eyebrow.

“Well, it’s not like Niall is going to do it, is it?” hissed Louis, using the sofa’s armrest to maneuver around it on one foot.

“Hey, what’s this now?” asked Niall, coming out of his study like he’d been summoned.

“Louis forgot to buy shampoo,” said Harry at the same time as Louis said,

“I fucking stepped in dog piss.”

“Alright,” declared Niall, bringing his hands together. “Time for all of us to take a break and get out of this flat.”

After Harry finished his shower and they got Loki’s mess cleaned up, they left Loki in the bathroom with his little dog mattress and a bowl of water, and went out to dance.

Niall apparently had a regular haunt: a pub with secluded booths as well as a well-attended dancefloor and a decent dj, within walking distance from his flat. Louis decided that this was no time for half-arsing things, so he bought them two rounds of shots and a drink each, just to get them started.

Louis loved the way Harry’s eyes glazed over after the two shots, a lovely flush spreading on his cheeks. The combination had Louis itching to drag his teeth across Harry’s collarbone.

“Come dance with me,” Harry urged, already swaying to the music, and Louis complied happily. It felt liberating, bringing their bodies together in the anonymity of a club dancefloor.

Harry pulled his hands haphazardly through his own long locks, his shirt already sticking to him in places, and Louis pressed up against his back, gripping his hips as they moved together.

The beat was reverberating through his body and the alcohol was fizzling in his blood; Louis was just about to whisper in Harry’s ear that they should slip into the gents’ together, when they were separated by a flock of girls flooding the floor.

Louis couldn’t even be particularly annoyed; the girls were having a good time, laughing and dancing together, seemingly unaware of what they had done. Louis rose on his tiptoes in hopes of finding Harry again, but he couldn’t glimpse him in the crowd.

Somewhat dejectedly, Louis made his way back to the table where Niall was nursing his beer.

“You don’t want to join the fun?” Louis asked, slumping down opposite him. Niall shrugged.

“I’m having enough fun seeing you kids enjoy yourself,” he said with an impish grin, raising his pint to Louis’ glass as Louis grabbed it.

“Speaking of which,” continued Niall after wiping the foam mustache off his face. “Harry seems to be having a blast.”

He nodded towards the bar, and Louis twisted his body to see what was happening.

What was happening was that Harry seemed to be holding court for an audience of people, mostly men at their own age; they were all laughing at whatever Harry had told them, and a wild, inappropriate surge of jealousy coursed through Louis. He pushed away from the table immediately, ignoring Niall’s calls as he made his way to Harry.

“Hello, love,” he said when Harry noticed his approach. He tugged Harry closer, putting one arm around his waist and leaning on the counter with the other, pretending to flag down the bartender while not so inconspicuously staring down the guys Harry had been talking with. Doing his best to ignore him, Harry tried to get back on track with the conversation.

The others, however, seemed to get the hint and all relocated to the dance floor within minutes, at least one of them throwing Louis a dirty look as he went. Louis only grinned at him, baring his teeth like a predator before turning his head and kissing Harry’s hair.

“Don’t do that,” mumbled Harry, making Louis lean back in shock.

“Do what?” he asked, his grip on Harry’s waist loosening. Harry pushed a lock behind his ear and refused to meet Louis’ eyes.

“Acting possessive. It’s not cute.”

“Cute?” sputtered Louis, letting go of Harry entirely. “I’m not trying to be _cute_ , Harry!”

“Then what? You just couldn’t stand me talking to other men?” retorted Harry darkly. “Were you afraid I wouldn’t be able to control myself? That I’d want to snog one of them senseless?”

“Well, do you?” bit Louis, hands curling into fists. Harry’s mouth fell open, and the music was suddenly too loud, the chattering of people deafening. Louis inhaled sharply, the apology already on his tongue when Harry turned away, hugging his own body.

“I can’t believe you just asked me that,” he said so quietly Louis couldn’t be sure he’d actually heard it.

“Harry,” he tried, pleadingly reaching out a hand.

“Don’t touch me!” said Harry so harshly Louis felt a spike of guilt lash through him. Instead of apologizing, Louis let the guilt harden into anger.

“Fine!” he said, throwing his arms up in the air. “Fucking fine. I’m going back to Niall’s then; you tell me when you’re ready to talk!”

Louis made his way through the throng of people, not giving Harry a second glance, storming out into the chilly London night without bothering to fetch his coat.

After ten minutes, his anger had dissipated enough that he could feel the cold and began shivering as the breeze nipped at his bare arms. Louis pushed his hands deeper into his jeans pockets, willing the white t-shirt to warm him.

Still a bit tipsy from the shots and the drink, Louis was in a hurry to get inside; otherwise, he might have noticed that the spare key Niall had hidden outside his flat wasn’t in the exact same spot as they left it; he might have paid heed to Loki’s incessant barking as he entered; he might even have noticed that the alarm had been disabled, if he’d made it as far as the alarm keyboard before he felt a cold, stabbing sensation in his neck.

His hand came up to his throat even as he twirled around, lashing out with the other to catch his assailant. But his movements were slowed by cold and alcohol, and whatever had been injected into his bloodstream worked fast; already there was a fuzzy darkness threatening to overtake Louis’ senses.

His fist connected with a warm body, but there was no real force behind his hit. Then Louis felt his arms being twisted behind him with ruthless efficiency, powerless to stop it. He scrabbled weakly at the floor with his feet, kicking out and trying to struggle against the grip, but to no avail.

By the time a sack was put over his head, Louis was already unconscious.

**Intermission**

Harry wished he could be angry; angry at Louis for being dense, angry at himself for letting it go this far, angry at Niall for being so understanding, wrapping Harry into the firmest hug, buying him another drink, and offering to talk about it if he wanted to.

“Nah,” said Harry with a shaky laugh. “He’ll come around. We’ll get over it. I think he needed to let off some steam .”

Harry wasn’t angry; he was sad. He knew that, come morning, Louis would probably apologize and tickle the corner of his mouth until he smiled, and things would seem fine again for a time. But they wouldn’t have actually worked anything out. From there it would just be a waiting game until the next time one of them stormed off angry about something neither of them would deign to explain to the other.

So he just sipped his drink, asking Niall about his progress with the case at hand.

“I feel like I’m missing something,” admitted Niall, wiping some condensation off his glass with one finger. “Like, it’s something staring me right in the face but I just can’t see it.”

Harry hummed sympathetically over the rim of his glass.

“Just keep at it, Ni,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll come to you.”

It turned out Louis hadn’t gone back to Niall’s after all. He wasn’t to be found in the flat, and Harry felt a fresh surge of irritation. He rolled up in the pull-out sofa, telling Niall that if Louis got back during the night, he would have to sleep on the floor.

Niall laughed his agreement, shutting his door after giving Loki an affectionate pat.

But Louis didn’t return. Harry blinked awake to the first rays of the washed-out sun finding their way into the living room, and the first pang of worry made itself known when he realized Louis hadn’t curled up beside him during the night.

Harry fumbled after his phone to see if Louis had texted him. He hadn’t. Abandoning all dignity, Harry tried calling him while nervously biting at his nails.

His phone was turned off, and Harry let his own fall into his lap as he stared at the door. _Where could he be? Had something happened?_

“Niall?” he called, clearing his throat. He fought to get up, long legs curiously uncooperative as he stumbled into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.

“Whuh?” replied Niall, coming into the kitchen as well, scratching at his amazing bedhead.

“Lou’s not back yet and he doesn’t answer,” said Harry, giving Niall another glass of water. Sleep cleared from Niall’s blue eyes instantly, and he turned on his heel.

“What are you doing?” asked Harry, trailing after him.

“Checking if he ever made it back here,” said Niall, tapping away at the little alarm pad by the door.

“Well?” said Harry, peeking over his shoulder expectantly.

“Didn’t he leave the club at a little past one?” asked Niall, brow furrowing.

“Yeah?” said Harry, squinting as he leaned even closer.

“This says the alarm was disarmed a quarter to midnight,” said Niall slowly. Harry felt a leaden weight settle in his stomach.

“You mean—” he began, as Niall turned to him with wide eyes.

“Someone was here when he got back.”

They contacted Zayn and Liam almost immediately and joined them in their safe house with Loki. Niall’s flat obviously wasn’t safe.

“Whoever it was was probably after you, Niall,” said Liam calmly while making a pot of coffee. Niall made a face, slumping down at the table. Harry hastened to squeeze his shoulder.

“Not your fault, Niall,” he murmured, even though he was hurting with fear; a sense of dread snaking its way through his entire body. _Louis could be dead_. Harry quickly rejected the thought – if the motive had been Louis dead, he would have been killed on the spot.

“This could be a good sign,” said Zayn, tapping a finger against his lips. “It means us breaking Liam out has scared whoever it is who’s behind this – and that you’re onto something, Ni.”

“If only that helped,” he sniffled, pushing his fingers through his wild hair. “I might be close, but I’m not _there_.”

Liam poured them all a cup, and Zayn got up to fetch milk when a notification sounded on Niall’s phone. Niall fished it out from his pocket, glancing at it half-heartedly before sitting up ramrod straight.

“It’s from my MI6 email,” he said, eyes widening comically as he pulled it up. “That shit should have been deactivated when I resigned.”

They all crowded around Niall to see the email – it was a single line, “don’t get involved”. Attached was a video file. Niall looked up at his friends, and Harry couldn’t help but swallow.

Niall pressed play, and the sound of a tinny recording started playing as the grainy image of a man tied to a chair with a black burlap sack on his head appeared.

Harry stopped breathing.

The only thing they could hear were the steps of the person recording when they walked up to the man on the chair. A hand, obviously belonging to a man, ripped off the sack to reveal Louis.

Harry pressed his hand to his chest, willing his heartbeat to slow down. At least Louis was alive; _he’s alive_. Louis was blinking repeatedly, obviously unaccustomed to light, his hair was a mess, and the circles under his eyes pronounced, but other than that he seemed okay. Harry’s hand curled, bunching up his own shirt.

Louis looked from the camera to whoever it was holding the camera, opening his mouth to say something when the recording abruptly cut off.

The message was clear. Don’t get involved or Louis bites it.

Harry didn’t even realize that Zayn and Liam had helped him sit down before he was already seated firmly in his chair, breathing heavily. His hand was still bunched in his t-shirt, his thumb brushing one of the swallows adorning his collarbones.

One swallow for each bullet scar Louis had. Louis didn’t know that was why Harry had gotten them, and now Harry might never get to tell him. He choked back a sob even though his eyes were completely dry.

“We’ll find him,” said Liam, a strange, steely edge to his voice. “Won’t we, Niall?”

“The file was programmed to destroy itself after a viewing, just like the email” said Niall. When they all turned their horrified expressions his way, Niall looked up and flashed a blinding grin.

“Good thing I’m quick at making backup copies.”


	4. Chapter 4

Louis thought he’d been on a plane for a while, but he kept slipping in and out of consciousness and the bag over his head made it difficult to breathe, so he couldn’t be sure.

His head was getting clearer by the time he was expertly strapped into a chair, both hands and feet bound. Louis did his best to feign unconsciousness still; it didn’t do to give away his aware state if there was nothing in it for him.

His feet were bare even though he was still wearing his t-shirt and jeans; he mourned his Vans for a moment before he thanked his lucky stars he hadn’t been stripped naked. It wasn’t especially cold, but he’d be chilled to the bone already if it wasn’t for his remaining clothes.

He was left alone for a good while. Louis couldn’t help but try to get rid of the burlap sack when fifteen minutes had passed – damn any cameras that might be pointed his way. He surreptitiously tested his bonds, but they didn’t give, and the burlap sack stayed put. He stopped struggling and gave a foul-smelling sigh (seriously, this sack needed to go).

Some more time passed. Louis didn’t want to know how much of his headache was a regular hangover and how much was the aftereffects of whatever had been used to knock him out. All he knew was that he’d kill for a glass of water.

The sound of a door opening made Louis straighten up on instinct – it was too late to feign unconsciousness, so he remained on high alert as the footsteps grew louder. The sack was ripped from his head and Louis fought to focus in the sudden brightness that accosted his eyes.

He saw a phone camera pointed at him and tried desperately to make out the features of whoever it was holding it. They were backlit, however, and when Louis opened his mouth to demand an explanation, the figure turned around and left him alone again.

Louis breathed deeply through his nose a few times, thankful to be rid of the sack, before looking around. The room he was in could be described as a cell, but judging from the earthy smell and the whitewashed walls, it was likely a cellar of some sort. There were no furnishings except the chair he was strapped to and the weak lamp inserted into the ceiling directly above him.

Louis wriggled his toes and fingers to keep the blood circulation flowing as he waited.

He lost all notion of time and was just contemplating taking a nap when the door opened again. This time adjusting to the flooding light wasn’t that difficult, and Louis could finally make out the face of his captor.

“You know, I didn’t think Niall Horan had tattoos,” said Simon Cowell in a conversational tone.

All Louis’ thoughts ground to a halt as he stared up at his former mentor and boss.

His body language was relaxed; he had his arms loosely crossed, and his usual calm smile was playing on his face. The only thing showing that he’d aged during the last seven years was a hint of grey in his dark hair.

“What?” said Louis, at last. It wasn’t a very memorable first line, further undermined by how hoarse his voice was after hours of disuse.

Simon’s smile broadened for a fraction of a second before he said,

“It’s good to see you, Louis. Even though I didn’t expect it.”

“Good to see you too, Simon,” croaked Louis. “Or it would be, if I wasn’t tied to a chair.”

“This is what I get when I don’t do the job myself, of course,” continued Simon like he hadn’t heard Louis at all. “I mean, I do understand that when something needs to be done with haste mistakes happen. I was expecting Mister Horan, not my long-lost protégé. Tell me Louis, what have you been up to?”

“Oh, the usual,” replied Louis, tilting his head a little. “Hitting the beach a lot, found a great place for manicures.”

Simon laughed and walked past Louis, briefly putting a hand on his shoulder. Louis recoiled from the touch.

“You always had a sense of humour, Louis. That’s what I liked about you,” admitted Simon, studying the far wall intently.

“I bet I was your favourite, seeing as you positively rushed to find me after I was shot and dumped into the Mediterranean,” spat Louis. His heart beat fast, and he could feel his chest heave, arms straining against his ropes.

_Simon. It had been Simon setting Liam up; Simon was the one putting up obstacles for Niall._

It didn’t make sense.

“You weren’t involved in that whole Ben Winston ordeal a while back, were you?” asked Simon, turning back again. “There was something about Mister Payne’s – oh, excuse me, _Sir_ Payne’s report that didn’t quite add up, I thought.”

Louis said nothing.

Simon sighed. He didn’t sound frustrated, merely bored. He looked at his nails distractedly. Louis wasn’t fooled.

“How is Liam, by the way?”

“You tell me; you’re the one who put him in prison,” quipped Louis, unable to keep quiet. He regretted it instantly when Simon turned his piercing gaze to him.

“You do know why I did that, don’t you?” said Simon, and Louis almost pushed out his tongue at the condescending tone of voice. “The RIRA is a growing threat. A terrorist organization just next door, and there’s nothing I can do to stop them. I’m trying to make people realize that they need to be dealt with.”

“And how do you plan on doing that?” asked Louis sweetly, fluttering his eyelashes a little.

Simon huffed, still smiling.

“Oh, I’m sure you’d like to know, but I won’t tell you for free. I’m sure you understand that, Louis.”

“So it’s _quid pro quo Clarice_ , is it?” asked Louis, trying to stretch his legs as much as he could. He didn’t fare well. Simon chuckled, and Louis wanted to strangle him.

“I wouldn’t quite liken myself to Hannibal Lecter, dear Louis. I just want to know what Niall is up to. I know that he’s been trying to find out what I’ve been up to, so I think it’s only fair.”

Louis scoffed and rolled his eyes. Sarcasm was the only thing he could cling to.

Simon fell silent for a moment, regarding Louis for long enough that Louis met his gaze.

“You know,” began Simon thoughtfully. “I would have sent a rescue party if Horan hadn’t convinced me he was certain of your death.”

A tendril of cold dread snaked down Louis’ spine. He let nothing show on his face.

“You had such potential, and from such a young age,” continued Simon, still regarding Louis intently. “You could have returned at any time, and I would have welcomed you back, you know.”

Louis stared back.

“Bullshit,” he managed. Simon shook his head a little.

“Why do you think so little of yourself?” he asked, a note of curiosity in his voice. Louis blinked. He had no comeback.

Simon waited a beat before saying,

“I know I pushed you a lot, but that was because I knew you could do great things.”

“Didn’t feel like it,” said Louis weakly. His throat felt dry, tongue swollen in his mouth.

Simon opened the door, about to step out when he turned his head.

“I’d still welcome you back with open arms, Louis. Think about what you still have to offer; you could do so much good.”

He left Louis staring at the door, thoughts bouncing around inside his skull and making his skin itch.

Simon visited him the following day as well (at least Louis thought it was the following day; he’d dozed off in between visits), saying much the same things. Louis wasn’t listening that intently, his thoughts mostly consisted of _water, give me water. Jesus Christ, I would give my left arm for a glass of water_.

By the third visit, even the thirst had faded to the back of Louis’ mind. First and foremost he concentrated on that one spot on his heel that itched like hell. He tried to twist his bound foot to scratch it, but to no avail. At least he could still feel his feet, he mused as he let Simon’s words wash over him. The ropes binding him had been expertly tied; so tight he couldn’t escape, but not so tight they cut off all circulation. Louis yawned.

“Do you think this is a joke?” said Simon, the sudden rise in volume enough to make Louis’ eyes snap to him. “Lives are at stake, Louis. I can save them, if only you would help me.”

“I’d rather suck your dick than help you,” retorted Louis. He managed to sound harsh, when actually he imagined he could feel the floor moving under him. He didn’t think that was good.

“Now, that’s a thought,” said Simon, that infuriating smile back on his face as he moved a step closer. “You always were that way inclined, weren’t you?”

“I don’t have a thing for old farts who betray their country like you, if that’s what you’re asking,” said Louis, staring venomously at Simon through his dirty fringe. Simon pursed his lips then, something dark flitting across his eyes. Louis would have congratulated himself if Simon didn’t deal him a vicious backhanded blow so quickly he didn’t even see it coming.

The slap echoed in the bare room. Louis went cross-eyed for a second, head whiplashing to the side as the chair rocked with the force of it. His incisor had sliced into his lip on impact and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth.

“You’re telling me,” said Simon, and Louis could tell his calm was forced, “that _I_ am the one who betrayed our country? When you’ve been selling your skillset to the highest bidder for _years_.”

Louis licked his bleeding lip, chest heaving with the adrenaline rush. Simon was leaning over him, eyes reduced to slits.

“You would be nothing if it weren’t for me. I practically picked you off the street. I gave you a chance to make something of yourself. But now I see you’re too much of a coward to take this opportunity you’ve been offered!”

Louis spat blood in his face.

Simon didn’t even flinch. He just blinked before he jabbed Louis in the stomach, making him retch and curl in on himself.

As Louis panted and dripped blood over his knees, Simon straightened up, brushing off his hands.

“I always thought you were intelligent,” he said disdainfully, “but you don’t seem to realize that if you’re of no use to me, I might as well kill you.”

Louis was left alone again, still trying to draw breath into his lungs.

 _I am of use to you_ , he thought. _I’m the only leverage you have over Niall right now._

Louis tried to straighten up, flicking his fringe out of his eyes. A disconcerting thought hit him: what if Niall had decided he wasn’t worth the effort? Trying to find him would detract from his work trying to restore Liam’s career and expose Simon.

If he _had been_ the one to convince Simon that Louis was a lost cause… Louis wondered if Niall really had forgiven him for faking his death for years. He didn’t know if he could forgive someone else for doing it.

 _Harry wouldn’t leave me_ , he thought, but even as the thought formed he felt doubt nibbling away at it. _No, he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. I love him._

Louis felt a lump form in his throat, but he had no tears to shed. So he bit his throbbing lip and closed his eyes, wishing for unconsciousness.

He woke up with a start when the door opened again. He steeled himself for another round, but his mouth dropped open when none other than Liam Payne appeared in the doorway.

Louis had never been happier to see anyone in his life; Liam looked like a titan, a sculpture by fucking Michelangelo brought to life, and Louis could kiss him on the mouth as he came over and quickly sliced through Louis’ ropes.

“I bloody love you,” he slurred as Liam helped him get to his feet.

“Can you walk?” asked Liam, and Louis tried, he honestly did, but the first step sent a shooting pain up his leg, making him clutch at Liam and give a quiet whimper.

“Give me a sec,” he rasped, inhaling sharply through his nose. He managed to limp to the door with Liam’s help before Liam said, “Fuck it,” and threw Louis over his shoulder in a fireman's grip.

Louis was too far gone to feel embarrassed.

“Oh, hey Zayn!” he stage whispered as he caught sight of Zayn guarding the stairwell they were headed for.

“Shush!” Zayn commanded, taking the steps two at a time, skillfully avoiding the bodies of two guards laid out on the staircase. Louis shook his head a little, willing his thoughts together, and set to work massaging life back into his hands, gently bumping into Liam’s shoulder with every step Liam took.

Louis honestly couldn’t tell if the warm, fuzzy feeling in his head was happiness or just unconsciousness threatening to overtake him again.

The rest of the escape was all a blur, but at one point Louis could feel fresh air hitting his face and a laugh threatened to bubble out. They were in a car for a while, he was sure, but later he couldn’t recall any details.

Zayn offered him water while Liam drove; this Louis could remember, because he was frustrated at Zayn for only allowing small sips with breaks in between. He was soon lulled to sleep with only one thought echoing through his head.

 _Harry_.


	5. Chapter 5

“It’s Simon,” was the first thing Louis said after waking up. He was tucked safely into a bed, blinking groggily up at Harry, who was staring intently at him. He seemed torn between offering Louis a glass of water and throwing himself at him, green eyes roaming over Louis’ frame desperately.

He settled on putting a hand on Louis’ shoulder, gently guiding him into a sitting position before giving him the glass of water.

Louis was about to protest. They had to take Simon down; this was no time for lying about! But then he realized how absolutely parched he was, so he gulped down all of the water so greedily half of it spilled down his chin.

“It’s Simon,” he repeated breathlessly as Harry took the glass away from his shaking hand. “Simon Cowell, he’s behind all of it.”

“You’ve been pretty out of it, love,” said Harry, cupping Louis’ face with a warm hand, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb. “Simon’s behind what?”

Louis impatiently batted away Harry’s hand, struggling to untangle his legs from the duvet.

“He’s the one who threw Liam in jail! He’s planning something!” Louis huffed and got up so quickly he got a headrush and collapsed pitifully into Harry’s arms, hands scrabbling weakly at his shoulders.

“I have to tell Niall,” pleaded Louis, aware that his words were slurred, but unable to make his mouth form the words properly.

“Tell me what?” said Niall as he threw the door open. Louis immediately reached for his collar to drag him close, just to have something to lean on.

“Simon’s been behind it all,” Louis croaked. “He jailed Li and tried to kidnap you, only he got me instead.”

Niall’s eyes widened.

“Fuck me.”

“It’s a smokescreen,” said Niall incredulously, tapping away at his keyboards. “The heavy encryption on Liam’s files… It’s a trap, designed to keep me busy so I won’t find out what’s really going on.”

They were all five gathered in the sorry excuse of an office in Liam and Zayn’s safe house to work on uncovering Simon’s web of intrigue. It was slow going because they only really had the one computer between them.

“What is going on then?” asked Zayn impatiently, squinting at Niall’s laptop screen. Louis was trying to look at the screen as well, but he was constricted by Harry, who insisted on hugging him constantly. Like he was in danger of falling over at any time. Which only had happened, like, twice.

Niall glanced at Zayn, then at Liam.

“Seems you were onto something Liam,” he said slowly. “Simon’s been in contact with the RIRA.”

They all started yelling at each other, Louis trying to extricate himself from Harry to verify what Niall had said.

“What is he planning?” he asked, feeling out of breath as he gripped the back of Niall’s chair.

“The Queen will make a historic visit to Belfast,” said Niall as he tapped out a staccato on the desktop. “Hasn’t been one in ages, the situation in Northern Ireland being what it is, tensions still running high. But they want to make a statement or something, there’ll be a parade and everything. MI6 is in charge of the security.”

With every word, Louis felt his stomach plummet deeper.

“You mean he’s going to do something to the bloody Queen?” interjected Liam, sounding properly horrified.

Niall shrugged.

“He’s been talking to the RIRA, under a false identity of course, but just about a car bomb. Like, there’s no way that’ll do anything but maybe disrupt the parade.”

“He’s planning something bigger, though,” said Louis, absentmindedly grabbing Harry’s hand as it came up to rest at his shoulder. “I’m sure of it.”

“You’re probably right,” agreed Niall, “but I don’t know what. And it seems Simon’s kept all that to himself; there is nothing else to go on.”

“We’ll keep looking,” said Liam firmly. “At least we have enough to expose Simon by now, don’t we?”

“Well,” said Niall slowly. “These emails are really carefully worded. This correspondence could be a ploy to expose the RIRA, not help them. He kidnapped Louis, but Louis is supposed to be dead. Unless we catch Simon actually executing this plan, we’ve got nothing on him.”

They all breathed out a shared curse.

“When’s the parade?” asked Zayn, winding his arms around Liam’s waist. Liam leaned into the touch. Louis felt Harry’s hand squeeze his shoulder briefly.

“The day after tomorrow,” said Niall after a short pause.

A deafening silence fell.

Louis exchanged looks with each of the boys in turn.

“Book us tickets to Belfast, won’t you Niall,” he sighed at last. Harry’s hand remained a reassuring weight on his shoulder, and Louis was thankful for it.

“This is strange,” said Louis. He was rifling through all the information Niall had managed to scrounge up on the Queen’s visit to Belfast, trying to tie something together with the hints Cowell had dropped during his interrogation but to no avail. He made a note with his marker, pages rustling in his lap.

Niall was also doing all he could to figure things out with only his laptop as help. He hummed in acknowledgment of Louis but didn’t look away from his screen.

“I’m looking into the Queen’s security detail,” continued Louis, showing Niall the printed out page containing highly classified information about the Queen’s bodyguards. “I think I recognize one of them.”

“You were with the MI6 for years, Lou. You’re bound to - fucking hell!”

Niall scrambled up to snatch the page from Louis’ hand; he would have sent his laptop crashing to the ground if Louis hadn’t reached over to catch it.

“I’m sure I’ve seen her face in connection with IRA!” Niall hurried to say, staring at the small ID picture of a woman with neat, blonde hair, the one Louis had circled with a marker.

“Hang on,” said Louis, trying to snatch the picture back. “I don’t know anyone in the bloody IRA, where do I know her from then?”

“How am I supposed to know?” said Niall with a petulant note to his voice, giving Louis back the paper and retrieving his laptop as well.

Louis studied the picture intently. He had seen her before, he was sure of it, but he just couldn’t place her. When he looked close, he could see the shadow of a small scar along her left eyebrow, and then suddenly he knew.

“This woman nearly decapitated me with a stiletto!” Louis exclaimed.

Niall looked up.

“When we were after the same target in Dubai,” Louis said more calmly..

“What’s an IRA agent doing in Dubai?”

“She’s not an IRA agent,” said Louis, sighing heavily. “She’s an assassin. Cowell’s planning to kill the Queen, or make an attempt!”

Niall stared blankly at him for a second.

“Right, lads!” he called then as he started to type furiously. “We’re leaving in five minutes!”

Liam stuck in his head.

“I thought the flight was leaving tonight?” he asked, eyeing Louis who was getting up.

“Change of plans,” said Niall without looking up. “Hey, Louis, she any good?”

“Let’s say I didn’t get my money for that particular mission,” said Louis, voice falling flat of any humour as he left the room.

 

The flight to Belfast was too short. The only plan they managed to come up with was this: Zayn and Harry were to go take care of the car bomb while Louis and Liam dashed off to save the Queen and Niall would set up station at some nearby Starbucks to micromanage the entire plan.

“Are you sure you’re strong enough, Lou?” asked Harry as the plane started to touch down.

“I’m fine, stop doting!” snapped Louis irritably, knowing that he was really _not_ fine; the effects of the dehydration he suffered in captivity were annoyingly long-lived. But Louis knew he had no choice but to power through.

Harry slumped back in the seat, crossing his arms. Louis opened his mouth to say something, to explain he hadn’t meant to be so harsh, but the plane made contact with the ground and all five of them scrabbled to be the first out the door.

Niall wasn’t well acquainted with Northern Ireland, and he didn’t have any place to stay in Belfast. They all nipped into the first Starbucks Niall’s eyes landed on and chose a nice corner to set up shop. While Niall packed up his laptop and other equipment, the rest hurriedly and subtly checked that their mics and earpieces worked.

They then left Niall alone, hurrying out the door so quickly the barista sent them a dirty look. Niall scratched the back of his head before getting up and sauntering over to the counter.

“Hello,” he said, allowing his natural Irish lilt to thicken. “I’d like the biggest frappucino on the menu, please.”

“Coming right up,” replied the barista, flicking her red-dyed ponytail over her shoulder and setting to work. She still seemed wary, but relaxed visibly when Niall casually leaned on the counter and tapped his foot, waiting for his order.

She missed his quick glance towards his work station, and it took all of Niall’s self control to accept the frappucino with a smile and a thank you before walking back with measured steps.

He set the drink down and slipped his headphones on, tapping his keyboard.

“How’s it going, Zayn?” he asked quietly, pulling up a map of Belfast with the parade route highlighted and possible car bomb locations marked.

“We’re on our way to the first possible location,” replied Zayn in his ear. “Keep working on cracking Simon’s files; we’ll keep you posted.”

“Right you are, boss!” Niall said, slightly louder than he had to, in hopes of making the guy by the table to his right stop sneaking looks at him like he was crazy.

“Liam, what’s your status?” he said, starting to hack into the CCTV feeds pertinent to the parade route.

“There are a lot of people here, visibility is low. Help would be appreciated, Ni,” came Liam’s voice, backed by the sound of a crowd. Niall cracked his knuckles, took a sip of his drink and set to work.

“What do you reckon, Louis?” said Liam, stretching his neck to see above the heads of the people congregated to see the Queen parading by. “As a professional hitman, where would you try to do your deed?”

Louis unbuttoned the top button of his dress shirt. Unlike Liam he’d forgone the tie; feeling constricted didn’t quite sit well with him anymore.

Making sure to loosen the muscles in his shoulders up a bit, Louis looked around smoothly, assessing the situation.

“She’s one of her bodyguards, right,” he said slowly. “She’ll be in her car or in one close by. She’ll do it where there’s many people around and buildings to take cover behind, because she’ll want to get away.”

“Any place that stands out Niall?” Liam asked, trusting his mic to pick up the sound and transmitting it to Niall.

“Several,” said Niall. “But she’s not in any of the cars in the parade.”

Louis swore under his breath as a cheer went up in the surrounding crowd. The convoy was drawing near and they were running out of time.

“The Queen’s going to give a speech, isn’t she?” began Louis hesitantly. Liam nodded as Niall confirmed it.

“Well, that’s where she’ll be,” finished Louis at the same second realization dawned in Liam’s eyes. They set off at a half-sprint through the crowd, weaving between people as fast as they could, their sights set on the end of the parade where the Queen would dismount to hold her nationally televised speech.

The cheer went with them as the cars caught up with them and passed; Liam and Louis doubled their efforts to reach the podium before it was too late. Louis fervently scanned their surroundings as they pushed through the crowd when a flash of light on a rooftop caught his eye.

“Liam, keep going!” shouted Louis as he turned to the side, vaulting over the parade barriers and launching into a sprint across the street. He made a small commotion when he pushed through on the other side, disregarding any and all toes and shins as he ran.

Louis didn’t even look to see if Liam had continued on his way, focusing all of his attention on finding a way to effectively scale the building in front of him. Luckily, there was a set of fire escape staircases on the adjacent house, so Louis set to climbing.

He could hear Niall chattering in his ear; not to him or Liam but Zayn and Harry, so the sound was a bit off. Louis caught bits and pieces; the car bomb was set to go off. Make the civilians clear out.

He reached the roof quickly but had to stop to catch his breath before sizing up the jump to the other building. Louis took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and set off at a running leap.

His body smacked into the edge of the roof with a painful thud, punching the air out of his lungs. He scrabbled fervently to crawl up to safety, and when he finally rolled to his feet, he heard a shot going off.

Louis instinctively curled in on himself, but at the same time he caught sight of the assassin standing up. There was a rifle at her feet, and Louis could only hope that her shot had missed since he was too late to stop her.

They stood still, regarding each other for a moment. Louis’ chest was still heaving, and he was just glad he’d stopped her from sending off any more shots. She had the lower part of her face covered with a scarf, but strands of blonde hair were blowing about her face as she pinned Louis with a clear stare.

Louis started to slowly reach for the gun tucked into his trousers, but at that moment she made a dive to the right. Louis followed but wasn’t fast enough to catch her before she slid down the side of a building on a rope she’d fastened on the edge. Louis climbed down after her without a second thought, his feet hitting ground just seconds after hers. He almost stumbled on the concrete, feet skidding in his haste to give chase.

“Louis’s on the assassin; I’m heading for the Queen now!” Niall heard Liam say. Niall almost choked on his frappucino, bolting upright to desperately sift through all the CCTV feeds on his laptop.

“You’re fucken’ what?” demanded Niall as he furiously wiped off his screen. “Liam, do you have a visual on the assassin?”

The guy was now openly staring at him, his coffee drink halfway between his mouth and the table. Niall had no time to be subtle.

“Louis, what’s your status?” said Niall when all he could hear from Liam’s end was shouting and the noise of scuffling. But Louis didn’t answer either; instead it was Harry’s slightly breathless voice that sounded in Niall’s ear.

“We found it, Ni. Zayn’s working on disarming it now.”

An alert popped up on Niall’s screen. Simon was using his system. This was Niall’s chance to break into it. Pulling his lower lip in between his teeth, Niall started to work with lines of coding, vaguely listening to Harry and Zayn talking to each other.

Niall hoped Zayn could handle it, because bomb defusing was never his forte, and besides, if he were to utter the word bomb in this Starbucks someone would surely call the police.

Niall swallowed audibly as his fingers tapped out a staccato at the keyboard.

“What do you mean, you don’t know how to disarm it?” said Harry incredulously while pushing his fingers through his wild mass of curls. Zayn sighed where he was hunched over the backseat of a car parked on a street perpendicular to the parade street.

The car bomb was ticking away in the backseat, mercilessly counting down the minutes.

“I mean I’m not a bomb expert,” said Zayn tersely. “I need to hotwire this car and drive it away from the people. No way they’ll be able to clear out in time.”

“Are you mad?” exclaimed Harry and put a hand on the car as if to physically stop it from moving when Zayn dove into the driver’s seat to tinker with the wires beneath the wheel.

“Where would you even drive it?” asked Harry when it became clear Zayn wasn’t stopping.

“Into the harbour,” came the muffled reply as the motor rumbled to life. Harry jumped a little, and threw a glance at the bomb timer. Still 6 minutes and 42 seconds to go.

“It’s a suicide mission,” he said quietly when Zayn righted himself and closed the car door to drive away. Zayn looked at him, hazel eyes meeting green, and he sighed.

“I promise I’ll try to find a way to live,” he replied with a small smile. “Go help your boyfriend, I think he might need it.”

Harry opened his mouth, but no sounds made it past the lump in his throat.

“Tell Liam…” started Zayn, and then paused, gazing off to the end of the street. “Oh, he bloody knows.”

The engine revved once and he was off, speeding away and leaving Harry on the street, the empty noise of cheering people a few streets away filling his ears.

“Harry, Zayn, what’s your situation?” came Niall’s voice in Harry’s ear. He jumped again, cursing over his own skittishness.

“Zayn’s handling it,” was his clipped reply.

“Great. Louis needs help. Go give it to him. He’s a few streets north of the parade street, how fast can you get there?”

“Give me ten minutes,” said Harry, setting off at a jog. “Tell him that if he dies, I’ll kill him!”

“He might not last ten minutes,” was Niall’s somber reply.

“I’ll kill him, Niall, I swear to god,” said Harry breathlessly as he broke into a run.

Liam’s heart was pounding in his chest, his muscles straining as he ran. Louis’ words were ringing in his ears: “Liam, keep going!” so that’s what he did. He was short on time, he could feel it.

He ignored the warning shouts as he reached the podium, scaling the perimeter fence just as the Queen herself got out of her car. Liam saw her pink hat among the black of her security guards, and shouted,

“Get down, Your Majesty!” before leaping towards her, pushing her back into the car just as a shot echoed through the air.

Liam felt a scorching line of pain zip across his back just before three security guards piled on top of him, forcefully wrenching him off the Queen and onto his bleeding back.

“He’s been shot! Get off him for God’s sake!” commanded a voice. With a sinking feeling in his gut, Liam recognized the voice. It was Eleanor Calder, the woman who’d arrested him; even as all the bodyguards got off him and yanked him to his feet, Liam could feel a bitter taste of resentment at the back of his mouth.

He squared his shoulders and met her gaze evenly. Eleanor stared him down, apparently unfazed by the commotion around her.

“Gentlemen, evacuate Her Majesty immediately,” she ordered calmly. “Sir Payne, I want you in the convoy; don’t leave the Queen’s side.”

Liam blinked, giving Eleanor a tight smile. He leaned down to apologize to the Queen of Great Britain for tackling her even as the people around him shouted for immediate evacuation.

“Liam, was that a gunshot I heard?” asked Niall, ignoring the nervous glances from the man still sitting at the table to his left. Niall was of half a mind to scare him off with a growl.

“I got the Queen out of harm’s way,” whispered Liam breathlessly. “How’s Louis doing?”

“He’s not coming in,” said Niall, frown deepening on his face as his eyes watered. He’d been staring at these lines of code for too long, the frappucino long since consumed. The barista might even have ended her shift; he was too busy to notice.

Niall gritted his teeth. If he couldn’t help the team on the field, he’d make damn sure to help them out by exposing Simon once and for all.

 

Louis ran after the assassin into an alley only to come face to face with five burly men clad in black. He could see the assassin stand behind them, calmly changing her outfit into something inconspicuous as her men closed in on Louis.

“Uh, Ni?” said Louis as he raised his gun. “I’m going to need back up.”

He managed to get off precisely one shot, taking down one out of five, before the rest descended on him like a pack of wolves.

Louis knew he stood no chance if he engaged them in a long fight. He managed to duck under their grip, kicking one of them in the kneecap before lunging for the assassin. She seemed surprised by the direct attack, barely managing to dive to the side as Louis sent off a shot.

“Please don’t kill her, she could be a key witness!” sounded Niall in Louis’ ear, distracting him just enough for one of the men to catch him in an iron grip, pinning his arms to his side, seemingly to crush him to death.

Louis brought his heel down hard on the man’s instep, whipping around as the man let go with a howl. Louis fired off a shot right into his face, feeling the warm blood spattering his own features.

During this time, the remaining three henchmen had managed to dig out their own guns, pointing them all at Louis. His neck prickled with the tension as he surveyed his surroundings, weighing his options.

“Seems it’s game over for you,” said the assassin, with a smug tone. Louis rolled his eyes, making sure to keep his gun perfectly still.

“Seems to me you failed with your assassination attempt,” said Louis. “Think Simon’s going to let you off easy?”

Out of the corner of his eye he could see her tense up.

“How’d you know—” she started, but as soon as the henchmen’s attention shifted to her, Louis sprang into action, rolling behind a metal rubbish bin and firing off another shot in the direction of the henchmen. He was lucky; it hit one of them in the leg. The others basically emptied their magazines, but none of the bullets made it through the metal.

With the bin as his cover, Louis fired several times, but this time the bullets only ricocheted off the walls in the alley, harming no one.

The sound of bullets was replaced with the sound of running feet. Louis peeked up above the bin just in time to see the beautiful sight of Harry coming to his rescue, hair flowing out behind him as he kicked the gun out of one man’s hand. Louis took the opportunity to shoot another man in the chest.

At the same time, Louis could see the assassin make to climb up a fire escape ladder.

“Harry, catch!” shouted Louis and hurled his gun towards him. Without stopping to see if he caught it, Louis threw himself at the assassin, grabbing her feet and forcefully pulling her back down again.

She screamed as she hit the ground but immediately kicked out, her foot catching Louis in the sternum.

He doubled over wheezing as she got to her feet. There was a gunshot, and Louis’ heart stopped for a second before he could hear Harry yelling,

“How could you be so bloody stupid, running after six people on your own!”

“It was just the one at the time!” Louis shouted back in his own defense, as he also defended himself from a vicious blow from the assassin.

Two more shots, but when Louis glanced over his shoulder, there were still two men advancing on Harry. He couldn’t focus on that, though, because his own opponent lashed out in an attack that Louis barely avoided. He tried to grab her arm, but she wrenched out of his grip with laughable ease, kicking at his legs out while doing it.

Louis stumbled backwards, feeling the fatigue setting in. He could only hope this would make her underestimate him.

“Hazza, love,” he huffed breathlessly. “A little help would be appreciated.”

“I’m _a little busy,_ ” retorted Harry, firing off two more rounds. Louis winced as he could hear the gun click, emptied of bullets.

“You could have called for help earlier,” said Harry exasperatedly as he let the empty gun fall from his hand. To all luck, his opponents had emptied their magazines as well, but there were three against two in hand-to-hand combat, and Louis was all but useless.

The assassin looked triumphant, closing in on Louis with a murderous glint in her eyes. Louis backed a few steps, until his back came into contact with Harry.

“Harry,” he said, fumbling for his hand blindly with their backs turned to each other. “Harry, I love you. If we get out of this alive…”

He didn’t get to finish the sentence before the assassin lunged. Louis used Harry as leverage, lifting himself up to aim a kick at her face. He could feel her nose crunch under his heel.

“Of course we’re getting out alive,” said Harry calmly, like he was commenting the weather. “If only so I can kick your stupid arse to kingdom come.”

“I’m sorry, alright?” said Louis, driving his knee into his opponent’s stomach before trying to hit her neck. She blocked him the second time though, unbalancing him completely.

“Harry, I know I’ve been an arse,” gasped Louis as the assassin wrenched his arm back into a painful position. “I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

“You can’t just make it up to me Louis,” huffed Harry, the sound of flesh hitting flesh reaching Louis’ ears. “A relationship isn’t a list of things you owe the other.”

“I don’t care,” said Louis between gritted teeth as he fought to break her grip. “I don’t care if I have to do the dishes for the rest of my fucking life, but I will make this up to you Harry if I die trying.”

He broke off with a pained wheeze as he finally managed to push the assassin into the wall with a painful thud.

“I’d rather you didn’t die, if that’s all the same,” replied Harry airily.

He was engaging the last standing henchman. Harry might not have Louis’ skills, but he possessed considerably more energy, taking him down with a flying kick.

He landed gracefully, half-turning towards Louis, but had his gaze still trained on his enemy on the ground. Louis felt pride surge through him at the fierce look in Harry’s eyes, the way his cheeks were flushed with adrenaline as his broad shoulders rose and fell with every harsh breath.

There was something almost feral in his posture, contrasting sharply with the soft curve of Harry’s lips, the warm green of his eyes, the way his hair fell across his face in gentle curls.

“Harry, will you marry me?” said Louis breathlessly. He could see Harry whip his head his way, brown locks bouncing about almost comically.

His red mouth fell open, and Louis almost smiled when he saw his amazingly green eyes widen in surprise. The assassin promptly punched Louis in the head, hitting his temple and making the world blacken.

The ground rushed up to meet Louis, and he never heard Harry’s answer.

This whole thing with waking up in hospitals was getting a bit old, Louis pondered as he blinked awake to the familiar noise of a heart monitor. Though he supposed it was favourable to the alternative.

The hospital room was dark; his eyes sought out a digital clock on his bedside table that showed the time as 5:42 a.m. Bloody hell.

Louis rustled the sheets as he moved to look around. The sound made a dark shape in the corner of the room shoot up with a small shout. Instinctively, Louis recoiled so quickly he fell off the bed with a yelp, the beeping of the heart monitor increasing.

“Oh my god, Louis,” came a warm, familiar voice, and Louis’ fears were immediately assuaged as Harry’s lumbering frame towered over him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” croaked Louis, before his body was wracked with a violent coughing fit. When it finally let up, Harry was crouching by his side in the darkness, warm hands cradling his face.

“Yes,” he said, smiling so widely Louis could make out the dimples in his cheeks.

“Yes, what?” asked Louis hoarsely, blinking dazedly before he remembered.

“Yes, you’ll marry me?” he said, hating the hopeful tone sneaking into his voice. Harry laughed, the sound making Louis feel warm.

“Yes,” repeated Harry, and his lips met Louis’ in a kiss, right there on the cold hospital floor.

“I’m starving,” whispered Louis when they finally parted. “Let’s sneak out and get a pizza or something.”

Harry laughed, gently rubbing Louis’ left cheekbone with a thumb.

“We can’t sneak out love, there’s an entire security detail posted outside this hospital.”

A feeling of cold dread drowned out the butterflies of joy in Louis’ stomach.

“There’s a what?” he asked, and Harry must have seen the way his face fell because he hurried to explain.

“You and Liam saved the Queen, Louis. They’re afraid Simon will try to exact revenge on you.”

“He got away?” asked Louis weakly as Harry got to his feet and hauled Louis back onto the bed like he weighed nothing. Harry sighed and sat down beside Louis.

“Not exactly. Niall exposed him; it was trending on Twitter and everything, he was so proud of himself. Cowell can’t hide forever. According to Zayn, the MI6 is already closing in on him.”

“Did you and Zayn defuse the bomb?” asked Louis, suddenly alert. Harry chuckled.

“Zayn drove the car into the harbour and got out at the last second before it went over the quay. Caused a minor tidal wave and irreparable damage to some docks, but no casualties.”

“Oh thank God,” sighed Louis, slumping back in the bed. His hand snaked out to find Harry’s, and they looked at each other for a while, smiling stupidly.

“I’m sorry if I’ve taken you for granted, Harry,” said Louis at last, looking down at their intertwined fingers. “But I do love you.”

“I know,” said Harry, such warmth in his voice that Louis couldn’t help but smile. He lifted Harry’s hand and kissed the back of it slowly, looking up at his fiancé through his lashes.

“You lied about who I was, right?” Louis asked, lips moving against the soft skin of Harry’s hand. Harry looked stricken all of a sudden; Louis lowered their hands slowly.

“Harry?” he intoned.

“Uhm, well,” said Harry.

 

“I’m sorry, Louis, I couldn’t bloody well lie to the Queen!” whispered Liam as they as they waited to enter the ballroom in Buckingham Palace.

“You bloody well should have!” hissed Louis in reply, nervously straightening his bowtie and white tuxedo vest. It wasn’t the official thing, but a private event for just Louis and Liam. Louis wasn’t sure if that made it worse or not.

He cleared his throat, nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Liam put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Relax, Lou. It’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say; you’ve done this before!”

This was when a footman, or whatever the hell royal servants were called, beckoned them to enter. They went into the ballroom shoulder to shoulder and came face to face with the Queen of the United Kingdom and the other Commonwealth realms.

She was flanked by only two men, something Louis knew wasn’t according to protocol. But then again, most of this situation wasn’t according to protocol anyway.

“Ah, Payne, Tomlinson, welcome,” said the Queen calmly, nodding at them to approach. Louis could feel his palms dampen with sweat as they did so. “I hope you don’t mind if we skip some of the formalities. One can only hear the national anthem so many times in one day.”

Louis laughed nervously, the sound echoing uncomfortably in the massive ballroom. The Queen looked at them, unfazed and perfectly composed in her regal dress.

“For your outstanding service to the nation, Liam Payne, your Most Excellent Order of the British Empire will be reinstated. Please kneel,” she said, accepting a delicate sword from one of her guards.

Liam swallowed and put his knee to the investiture stool, bowing his head reverently as the Queen touched his shoulder with the blade, ever so lightly.

“Rise, Sir Liam James Payne,” she commanded, and Liam obeyed, getting smoothly back on his feet and retreating a few steps.

There was a moment of silence as the Queen shifted her focus from Liam to Louis.

“Louis William Tomlinson, as is your legal name from this day” she began. “Will you step forward to receive the Royal Victorian Order for your distinguished personal service to the Crown.”

“Right,” muttered Louis under his breath, resisting the urge to pinch himself in front of the Sovereign herself. He mimicked Liam, putting his knee on the little velvet-clad stool and bowing his head.

He kept his eyes firmly on the floor as he felt the cold whisper of steel touch his neck.

“Rise, Sir Louis William Tomlinson,” said the Queen, and Louis did rise even if his knees shook and he had to find Liam’s gaze to steady himself.

“I hope both of you realize how lenient We are in regards to your unorthodox methods,” said the Queen sternly, making both the newly-knighted and the re-knighted man squirm like schoolboys in the headmaster’s office.

“We are grateful and honoured, Your Majesty,” said Liam apologetically, clasping his hands in front of him.

The Queen sniffed.

“We would have bestowed knighthood on Niall Horan as well, but he’s Irish. I have, however, put forward a recommendation to state him as the new head of the Secret Intelligence Service.”

“Bloody hell,” said Louis with a grin before he could stop himself. Liam sent him a scandalized look, and Louis felt his ears redden. But when he dared look at the Queen, he swore he could see her give a tiny wink.

“I wish you the best, gentlemen,” she said as if she hasn’t just almost made Louis laugh out loud. “Although I do hope our paths won’t have to cross quite so dramatically in the future.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be an epilogue on Monday ;)


	6. Epilogue

**Dorset, the United Kingdom. Six months later**

“And do you, Louis William Tomlinson, take Harry Edward Styles to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“I do,” said Louis simply, smiling brightly as he looked up at Harry. Harry was smiling back, although there was no hiding his red rimmed eyes. Louis had married himself a sentimental old sap and no mistake.

“The grooms may kiss,” finished the minister, but Louis barely heard him when he grabbed Harry by the waist, dipping him so suddenly Harry let out a little yelp. He scrambled to get a grip on Louis’ shoulders, scowling playfully up at him.

Louis couldn’t help the delighted grin when he leaned down, touching his nose to Harry’s and then fitting their mouths together.

Cheers mingled with a few catcalls and Niall’s unmistakable uproarious laughter, but Louis didn’t let Harry up until they were both quite breathless.

It was the most beautiful day by the seaside in the south of England. The salty breeze ruffled Louis’ already messy quiff as he looked out on the gathering of friends. Beyond them he could see the white tent where a wedding buffet was being served, topped off with a free bar.

He looked at Harry, his husband, taking in his brown hair done up in a neat bun, a few errant locks flowing around his face, the dimple that seemed a fixture in his cheek today, the unbelievable green of his eyes.

“What do you say about running away with me one last time, Tomlinson?” said Harry tenderly, cupping Louis’ hand in his own. Louis responded with a high laugh, grabbing Harry’s hand and jumping off the makeshift altar and pulling him right past the crowd of well-wishers, ignoring even Zayn and Liam where they were demonstratively kissing with Loki yapping excitedly at their feet.

“Where are we going, Lou?” laughed Harry as he let himself be dragged past the white tent and into the car park.

“You might have married an upstanding citizen, Hazza,” said Louis, pulling out a set of car keys from his inner pocket, “but I hope I haven’t lost the ability to surprise you.”

He unlocked the car with a click on the keys, and the lights of a gorgeous, blue Aston Martin convertible flashed. Harry’s eyes widened delightfully as Louis got into the driver’s seat.

“Come on then, love,” teased Louis as he opened the passenger side door. “I want to see how fast this baby can go.”

Harry hurried to comply, folding his long legs inside the sleek car with surprising speed. Louis took a moment to admire the sight of his tuxedo-clad husband, enjoying the slight flush to his cheeks and the way his teeth dug into his plush bottom lip. Louis tilted his head, and carefully undid Harry’s bun, letting the locks spill out. Harry laughed, but allowed him, peeking out from under the strands. Louis chuckled at the mischievous glint in his eyes.

He then turned the key and whizzed right out of the parking lot, making Harry whoop as the wind pushed the hair back from his face. Louis grinned broadly and pressed the gas pedal down, completely ignoring any speed limits as they raced down the country road surrounded by green fields.

“So what should we do now, settle down?” shouted Harry, the wind almost snatching away any sound right from his lips.

“We couldn’t possibly,” replied Louis as he took a bend in the road. “You don’t have your knighthood yet, do you?”

The sound of Harry’s unbridled laughter mixed with the hum of the engine Harry put his hand over Louis’ on the gear shift, thumbing subtly at the small gold band on Louis’ ring finger.

Louis smiled as the wind made his eyes tear up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can listen to the [sequel soundtrack](http://8tracks.com/santtu-waller/die-another-day) I've put together, or browse the [tumblr tag](http://trailsofpaper.tumblr.com/tagged/calling%20an%20audible) for this series.
> 
> This is well and truly the end! I hope you liked the series in general and this sequel in particular, the feedback I've gotten is amazing! Please feel free to keep commenting :)


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